Meeting
by Lizard Pie
Summary: Years in the future, Cyborg hunts Gizmo down to have as close to a heart to heart as they'll ever get.


AN: Just a little blurb that was going around in my head. Plus I wanted to get something done over spring break (working 36 hours didn't allow me much writing time), and make something about Gizmo. He needs love. In the comics, Gizmo does own his own company. I just figured, Animated Gizmo would probably do the same thing (he's so recognition driven).

"Mr. O'Jergeon?" Amara asked over the intercom. Mikron took a long sip of coffee before pressing the return button.

"Yes?" He asked, eyes turning away from his paper work to the small speaker for a moment.

"I have someone here to see you."

Mikron checked his palm pilot. There wasn't a note, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. "Do they have an appointment?"

Amara hesitated, "No sir, but…"

"Well then, they aren't coming in. I've got a meeting in…" He checked for the next note, "A half hour. I don't have time for some guy just wandering in off the street…"

"Sir, he says it's urgent."

Mikron paused, "How urgent?"

"All he'll tell me is that you're, um, going to make time for him."

This narrowed the list of who it could be, but just slightly. No where near enough for him to feel comfortable just letting them walk into his office without a little preparation.

As if reading his mind, she continued, "He did refer to you as 'Gizmo', sir."

That did it –there were only a few really knew of his former life that would bother to come here. And a HIVE member would have been referred to by name, so that left…

A titan –great. He had a pretty good idea which one it was, too.

"Is it some huge guy covered in outdated white and blue junk?" He asked, glaring at the door.

Amara paused on the other end, "Um… yes sir."

Mikron growled under his breath. Of all people to show up at his door, it just HAD to be Cyborg –or whatever he was calling himself now.

"I'll be right out."

He stomped across the room only to stand awkwardly at the door.

What was he worried about? There was nothing being held over his head –any warrants out had passed the statute of limitations while he was frozen.

He'd won. He'd over-kill level won.

Where was Vyborg's international company? Where were his millions? Nowhere.

Putting on a smug grin he told himself was well earned; Mikron opened the door and stepped outside the office.

A notably older Victor sat in the leather armchair, single real eye narrowed just slightly. The two looked over each other for a long while.

"I'm amazed," Mikron began finally, "That no one's turned you into scrap."

The single real eye rolled, "And I'm amazed you couldn't break the five foot barrior."

They exchanged a long glare before Mikron decided to break the silence.

"This is serious?"

Victor nodded, "Very."

"And **I'll** consider it serious?"

He didn't hesitate, "Oh yeah, you will."

Mikron rolled his eyes irritably. "You have ten minutes." He motioned with a jerk of his head as he retreated back into his office.

Victor obediently strolled after him, shut the door behind himself, and took a seat before the large, oak desk.

Mikron walked around to take his own place. After a pause, he laced his fingers. "What do you want?"

Victor frowned just slightly, "Who are you distributing to?"

Mikron scoffed, "You actually think I would tell **you**?" He narrowed his eye as he pointed an incriminating finger, "Even if it weren't confidential, which it is, why would I **ever**…"

Victor cut him off, "Because I'm assuming it's not to the public."

Mikron's eyes narrowed, "So, you came here to insult me?" He tilted his head up just slightly to look down his nose at Cyborg, "No. My tech is NOT for some untrained punk on the… what is this?"

Victor had passed papers from a briefcase across the desk. Pictures of guns, one after another.

Not one was his –they were less refined, less everything that made one of his weapons. The lack of his trademark 'G' was the least of it.

But still, each was a knock off.

Mikron grit his teeth until he was sure they would crack. "Where did you get these?" he hissed, glaring fiercely at Victor.

"They were confiscated from a string of robberies lately. There are more out there."

Mikron shook his head and snapped the photos down, "No they weren't. You're making these up just to get me to break contract." He narrowed his eyes, "This filthy trick is not going to work."

It was Victor's turn to feel rage, "What? Do you actually think I couldn't make a **perfect** copy of anything **you** made?"

"No, I don't."

Victor grit his teeth, "Whether you want to believe it or not, these are being distributed on the street. Your blueprints are out, and your designs are being butchered."

Mikron looked closer at the pictures –definitely not Cyborg's work. If nothing else, he wouldn't have made something so shoddy.

And where would he have gotten a hold of his tech to begin with? There were only two explanations.

Either the Titans were breaking into government headquarters and stealing top secret machinery or…

The contract had been broken.

"Those crud munching, pit sniffing zits…" he snarled, hand combing over his scalp as he closed his eyes and thought.

After a very long while, he put on a grin and laced his fingers.

"I sympathize. Truly, I do. But it's not my problem." He smiled a little broader, "So why don't you just pick up and go back to whatever it is that you do and don't bother me again."

Victor curled his fingers into a light fist. "You don't care that your tech is on the streets? About what they're doing to it?"

Mikron shook his head, but kept the bitter smile, "Don't get me wrong. This is a _grave_ insult, and it will be dealt with accordingly. But still, it's **not** my problem. My tech was never created to make your life easier, so I guess it's fulfilling some duty, now isn't it?"

Victor sat stunned for a minute before smirking with a small sniff, "And here I thought I was talking to Gizmo. Ya know, the one who would be out on the streets about now hunting the people down who ripped off his tech?"

Mikron narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw, "He got frozen once and didn't want it to happen again. And he still wouldn't have helped you. Is there anything else that I'm not going to do, or can I get to my meeting?"

Victor rolled his eye and collected the pictures. "You're going to take care of this, aren't you?"

Mikron tilted his head for a moment, "If I feel like it. Now get out of my building or I'll get security to kick you out." Victor turned and walked away in silence.

"Hey, Tin Man…" Mikron called finally. Victor turned, hand just on the door knob.

"Yeah?"

"Don't let anyone else take you apart. I called dibs."

Victor looked him over for a while before finally smirking. "I knew he was in there somewhere." They exchanged nods before Victor disappeared beyond the office door.

Mikron sat silent for a long while as he let the past encounter sink in.

So, sort of, Gizmo was back in crime. The delinquent in him was laughing gleefully in between begging to shoot at least a couple rounds off the balcony at Cyborg.

But, not right now. There would be other opportunities.

For now, as much as it disgusted him, he was going to help a titan.


End file.
